


Empty

by AbbodonAbandon



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: College Parties, Emptyness, M/M, Near is a business man, Near uses neutral pronouns for everyone because he's a nonbinary Ally, Punk Light, This is a really strange fic, Trans Male Character, Trans Near, Trans Yagami Light, alcohol tw, lowkey nihilism (of sorts), vomit tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbodonAbandon/pseuds/AbbodonAbandon
Summary: Nate River deals with his overwhelming emptiness by attending a college party where he meets a rather radiant individual





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those fics that could be fanfiction but if I changed the names and a few minor details it would work as original fiction too so *shrugs*. 
> 
> Anyways this is a lowkey Christmas gift for @niatsuki on Tumblr (go follow her, she posts all the best NearxLights) because going on her blog inspired me to write this.

Nate was an empty man. He worked an empty job selling insurance to strangers, and came home to an empty house each night. He would have called his spouse empty if he had one. But he did not have one. Which only served to make the echoing ceilings of his home ring all the emptier. 

So when he found the tiny, bright invitation jammed under his doorway, he was all the more surprised for it when he found his eyes scanning the print.

“13 Crescent way. Sunset. Be there or be square.” Read the invitation in bold font. There seemed something off about it, either the font itself or the spacing, that while being entirely unnoticable also served to set his teeth gritting in disdain.

“This is bullshit.” He proclaimed to the air. No one was around to hear it. Balling up the invitation, he tossed it to the top of his bedside bureau. He would forget about it by sunset, he was sure. 

But as the tips of tiny light-rays crept over the horizon, Nate found himself standing outside of the small cottage of 13 Crescent way. He wore a pressed, dark suit, as well as cufflinks. He wasn't an animal, after all. 

The door opened, and a pale face peered out at him. “Hello, Mx…”

“Mister River. Nate River.” He didn't like the look they gave him as he said it. 

“River.” The person seemed to roll the word around on their tongue before spitting it out. “Right this way then, sir.” The voice dragged on the “s”.

Nate followed them somewhat reluctantly into the house. Long lights were strung around the room, casting it in a hazy pink and orange glow. Already, people milled around, dressed in swishing satiny material and black leather. Self-consciously, Nate tugged on the hem of his suit jacket. 

“Go wherever you like. I don't care. Punch is on the table, bathroom is three doors down and to your right. If you need anything else, ask for Sylvie, not me. And nice costume, by the way.” Before Nate could rebuff or affirm their assumption, they left. 

He sighed, tentatively stepping out into the room. The people only spared him a halfway glance, eyes regarding him alongside jagged grins. Nate waved hello at one of them. They didn't wave back. 

A party was a terrible place to be empty-handed, so Nate made his way over to the punch. Thick greens and reds, off-kilter with the color-scheme set by the lights, swirled in the crystal bowl. Nate suddenly doubted the need to adhere to this particular norm. 

“Appetizing, isn't it?” The voice came from above him, about a foot to be exact. It wasn't surprising, considering Nate was a very small man, even for being afab, but he still flinched in shock. 

Looking up, he noted that the person before him was indeed about a foot above him, but that was due in part to the long, blocky-heeled black boots they wore. They were attached to a rather nice pair of legs, and Nate had to stop himself from staring. The rest of the person looked quite attractive too, if a little punker than what Nate usually saw. Short black shorts complimented the boots, as well as smokey black eyeshadow and lipstick. A black headband sporting what looked like two cat ears nestled on the crown of the person’s head. Nate didn’t want to ask.

“It really isn't. Especially under these lights. Say, I didn't seem to get your name?”

The person smiled, wide and smug. Their black lips curled cutely, and Nate imagined it wouldn't be out of place for their tongue to dart across them. Well, when they weren’t wearing lipstick. “That's because I didn't tell you it. I'm Light, though. Mister Light to you, I suppose.” Light teasingly tapped a long nail against the lapel of Nate’s suit. 

“Then I'm Mister Nate River to you. Pleased to meet you.” He held his hand out imperiously. If they all thought it was an act, then he was going to sell it as such. 

Light smirked, something flashing deep in his eyes, before he took the hand and shook it succinctly. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Nate River. How's the wife and kids?”

“Don't have any.” He said breezily. “And you?”

“I'm gay.”

Nate became suddenly aware that he was still holding Light’s hand. “Fascinating. But no husband and kids then?”

A wry smirk crossed Light’s face. “Children are for squares. So’s marriage.”

“How harsh. Is this what life taught you?”

“Mm, no. It was college. And childhood, really. After being forced to play with so many dolls I just suppose I lost my appetite for all things kiddy related.” Light leaned back onto the wall behind him, arms crossing over his chest almost defensively. 

“They made you play with dolls in college? Damn liberals.” 

“Fucking-” Light’s words cut short when he realized Nate was joking. “Don't scare me like that, old man. You don't know how half of the people around here are, with their goddamn politics.”

“Old man?” He didn't know how to feel about that; he was hard-pressed to find anyone who viewed him as both male and over 18, and yet… Old man seemed quite removed from the “young man” before him, despite their shared “politics”. 

“You're what, 35?” Light snorted. “You wouldn't be in a suit like that if you weren't.”

“I- I'm twe- Nevermind. But how do you know about suits?” 

Light’s face tightened, and Nate almost regretted asking. “My Dad. Old fuck used to wear ones like yours. Wasn't a businessman like you though.”

“Worse than that, then? Was he lawyer?” 

“No. A fucking cop.” Nate knew not to press after that. 

They lapsed into silence then, Light leaning against his wall and Nate staring off into space besides him. Light’s lips had pursed themselves together, and Nate liked to imagine that he was thinking about something important; a rather solemn look had crossed over the boy’s face, and the thought of Light thinking about anything less than that would ruin Nate’s mental image. 

Finally, Nate broke it. “So, what brings you to this little party?” 

Light snorted, looking up from his patch of wall to raise an eyebrow at Nate. “It should be me asking you that, Mister River; I know more than half of the people here. You know none of them.” 

Nate tapped his foot. “I don’t particularly want to. And besides, I was simply making conversation.”

“Heh. So is asking for my whole life story just a little too forward for you?”

“Just a little. But I wouldn’t particularly mind if you decided to share it…”

A smirk curled Light’s lip. “Dad kicked me out at 17 and told me to eat shit. I’m in college now, a comp sci major. The other people in my program rot. All my friends are in the liberal-fucking-arts, so I come to parties and dress like this because otherwise I’d fucking, I’d fucking shoot someone.” By the time Light had finished, his smirk had dried into a sneer.

 

“The ‘liberal-fucking-arts’, huh? Didn’t know they taught that in school.”

Light grinned. “Like I said, it’s a liberal-arts program, They’re much freer with sex-ed.” 

“That’s too bad, by the way. About your dad.” 

“He doesn’t matter.” Light said it mechanically. 

“Does anything matter?” Nate proffered his hands in a gesture. 

“You’re alright, Mister River. Don’t let it get to your head, though.”

“That will be hard; the praise of a troubled teenager is of only the utmost significance to my emotional state.”

“I’m twenty. Basically an adult, old man.”

“That’s… never mind.” Nate didn’t trust the teasing look lurking in Light’s eyes. “I suppose you’d want to know my story now…”

“That’s awful presumptuous, Nate. I could very well be a selfish and self-centered jackass.”

“Not ‘Mister River?’” Nate chose to ignore his other words.

“I have bared my whole life story and soul to you. The least thanks I can get is to call you Nate.”

“I didn’t say I minded the change.”

 

“Well I didn’t say if I cared.”

“You are a jackass.”

“Selfish and self-centered, that is me.” Light gave him a slight half-bow, and Nate decided that he liked him a little more for it.

“On to me now. I’m a businessman. I am not old; I am only 25. And I would like to say that I am doing rather well for myself, due to extenuating circumstances that I would rather not name.”

“What are you in business in?” Light had tried to have his voice take on a rather mocking sincerity, but Nate could tell beneath that that he was interested.

“Insurance.”

“So like, ‘If I die, my family gets this big payout’? Or like, ‘If you don’t buy my insurance I’ll burn your house down with you in it’?”

“You may take that any way you choose.” 

“Thanks. I love having choices. Makes me feel like I have autonomy.”

“You’re awfully bitter for such a young man.” 

“You heard my life story. You should know why I’m like this. Besides, don’t you feel this way? Empty and hollow, like you’re waiting to crack.”

“It was just an observation, Light. And that’s an awfully personal question.”

“Fuck you.” 

Nate was sure Light’s eyes were on fire. “I’d say yes but something tells me that’s not what you’re referring to.” 

A strangled growl left Light. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“You seem awfully bothered by what I said. Are you under the influence of any substances?”

 

“You’re starting to make me wish I was.”

“Harsh.” Nate didn’t know why he was mocking Light. Perhaps it was the rise he got. It felt rather nice to have someone invested in what he said, he realized.

“No harsher than you’re being. I told you everything. You told me nothing.” It seemed the unfairness of the whole situation had started to eat away at Light; his left boot thumped the ground in staccatoed agitation.

A sudden feeling struck Nate, like he was standing on ice that was slowly sliding out from under him. He needed to grab onto something, onto anything, to steady himself. 

“Let’s forget this. All of this. Is the punch alcoholic?” 

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Later, Nate would ruminate that the punch may have been quite more than alcoholic (it was a “liberal-fucking-arts” party, after all), but in the moment it didn’t seem like such a pressing matter. 

Despite the blur, a few clear fragments remained. Light, holding his hand as he attempted some horrendous sort of dance that only surfaced during the few times that he was inebriated. The person from the door frowning in disgust as he vomited all over their shoes. And Light again, hands soft on his as he pulled him out into the brightly-lit streets. 

 

Of course, there was one more piece of last night that remained with soft certainty right in his grasp. 

From his position of being tucked into Nate’s arms, Light stirred, smeared-black mouth widening in a contented smile as he re-settled himself into comfort.

With a kiss to Light’s temple (straight into the soft downiness of his hair and staying longer than if Light had been awake), Nate slowly pulled away from Light.

Leaving a scribbled note on the bedside table (“Making breakfast. Please don’t leave”), he padded into the hallway. The lights were on, either due to the cleaning crew or the automatic timer being fixed (Nate found he preferred to view it as a human intervention), and they cast the room in a soft glow. Like the feeling when new snow had fallen, and not a single creature had walked on it before him. 

His steps were almost soundless as he made his way down the hallway. “This house, it really isn’t empty as I thought it was.” Nate remarked to the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Wowee! You've made it this far, so why not leave a comment?


End file.
